Moonshine
by TikiPrincess
Summary: 1920s AU. No Walkers. Daryl hides on the Greene farm when a bootleg run goes south.
1. Chapter 1

I ended up in the Department of Lost Things when I went to file a claim, so I didn't get to claim anything, but I did find my retainer. Too bad it doesn't fit anymore.

* * *

The chickens were fussin' again. Maggie was gonna drown Samson if he killed another one, no matter how often Beth argued that it was just a cat's nature and he'd only done it twice. But Maggie's patience was wearing thin these days. The past few years had been real tough for them all, but especially for her.

Beth headed out the side door to check on the coop when the bright lights of an automobile swept across the yard. It was a rarity to see one this far out from the city, so she snuck around the house to see who might be calling this late at night driving one of those things.

Two lawmen were standing on the porch, waiting for her father to open the door. She overheard them tell him that they were deputies looking for a bootlegger who escaped apprehension earlier. Beth hurried to the chicken coop and stepped inside the little darkened room.

"Hide in the corner as best you can," she hissed into the shadows. "I'll do what I can to keep them from lookin' too hard."

She thought she saw something move further into the darkness, but it could've been her imagination. Nevertheless, she stood there, humming a little tune as the chickens quieted down. No sooner had the last hen settled when the door swung open, causing a ruckus in the small space.

Worried that the flurry of feathers wasn't enough to hide the stranger from the lantern's light, she moved towards the door. "Who's there?"

"Sorry to frighten you, miss," said one of the deputies, taking off his hat. "I'm Deputy Grimes, this is Deputy Walsh. I don't wanna alarm you, but we believe there's a suspected criminal somewhere nearby, so why don't we get you back in the house where it's safe?"

"A criminal? Here?" She widened her eyes and tried to look surprised. "Golly, I been in here since just after supper tendin' to Bluebell. She ain't laid in a couple days."

"Since supper?" he asked. She nodded. "How long you think that's been?"

"Couple of hours, maybe."

"He's not here. Check the barn," he said to the other lawman. He turned to her, putting his hat back on. "Miss, you go straight to that house, alright? We'll let your family know when it's safe to come out."

"Yes, sir." She breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away. When he was out of earshot, she whispered into the darkness. "I'll ring the bell to let you know when they've skedaddled. Have you eaten yet?"

The responding grunt let her know she wasn't just talking to herself.

"Go on out to the barn soon as you're able. I'll bring some dinner up to the hayloft." She hesitated at the door, wondering if she was making a horrible mistake. It wasn't like her to be so reckless as to help some bootlegger she didn't even know. "By the way, my name's Beth."

"Daryl," said a voice from the shadows. "Daryl Dixon."

She smiled and slid out the door, making her way to the house by the light of the full moon.

o)O(o

Daryl stepped out of the shed when the noise of the motor from the sheriffs' car had faded away. That girl hadn't rung the bell yet, but he wasn't planning on stickin' around. Most likely, she'd forgotten her promise or had changed her mind and was tucked away in bed, all that golden hair spread out on her pillow.

He headed towards the woods, sparing a passing glance at the big red barn. Merle was gonna have his hide for messin' up this run. Weren't his fault the coppers was waitin' for him. Them back roads was supposed to be safe, but it looked like somebody had tipped them off.

The faint ring of a bell made him pause. She remembered. The distance to the barn was about the same distance to the trees. And she had promised to bring him some food. It'd be nice to eat somethin' that didn't come from a can or that he hadn't caught and cooked himself.

His feet decided to follow his stomach towards the barn instead of the safety of the woods, like his head was tellin' him. He ain't never had kindness from strangers. Hell, he ain't never had kindness from folk he knew. Not for free, anyways. Someone always wanted somethin' from him. Even his own brother, Merle, only kept him around because he didn't trust nobody else to watch out for him when he got drunk off his own product.

Daryl climbed the ladder to the hayloft and found a spot in the shadows where he could keep an eye on the entrance in case someone besides her showed up. Stupid thing was, he wasn't even sure he wanted her to. As long as she didn't, he knew what kind of person she was, same kind he'd dealt with his whole life. If she did, well, he didn't know what to make of her then.

She walked in, carrying a Mason jar in one hand and a napkin-covered plate in the other. "Daryl, you in here?"

"Up here," he said, leaning over the side so she could see him. The smell of fried chicken wafted from the plate, and his mouth started to water. "Need some help?"

She passed the plate up to him and scurried up the ladder. "Sorry it's gone cold. I had to make sure Daddy wasn't gonna come out here and take a look for hisself before goin' to bed."

Daryl was too busy shovelin' food in his mouth to answer. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a flaky biscuit. All of it saturated with the rich flavor of butter. He was in heaven.

"I brought you some silverware." She stood over him, holding out the utensils with a slightly disgusted look on her face that she was trying desperately to hide. He wiped his hands on the napkin and grabbed them from her. "Lemonade, too. Made it fresh this morning."

He took the jar, more cordially this time, and unscrewed the top. He took a sip, savoring the taste as the cool, sweet liquid washed over his tongue and slid down his throat. She eyed him warily as she sat down across from him on the floor.

"So, you're a bootlegger, huh? My granddaddy used to make his own moonshine." She smiled, probably more at ease now that he was using his knife and fork like a proper person. Her eyes drifted to the open loft doors, and the moon bathed her skin in a milky white glow. "But that was back when we still had the peach orchards. Acres and acres of 'em. Them revenuers came by and said we owed taxes on all the alcohol he sold. But granddaddy was a true Confederate and didn't think much of havin' to pay the Union for a war they started."

"What happened to him?"

"Things got violent. Daddy made him leave. Had to sell off a bunch of land to cover the fines." Despite the sadness of her words, she was still smilin'. It made no sense. "Daddy'd kill you if he knew a moonshiner were up here."

"I suspect he'd kill me just for bein' up here with his daughter," he said, shaking his head. "How old are you, anyways? Meal like that, you should be some farmer's wife with a passel of kids."

"Nineteen." She looked down at her hands while she fiddled with a piece of hay. "Maggie and I aren't the most marriageable girls in town on account of what happened with granddaddy and the lack of a suitable dowry to make up for the embarrassment of bein' related to the Greene family."

"Guys 'round here must be as blind as they are stupid." He'd have sold his soul to be married to a girl like her. She was kind and sweet, pretty as an angel. And he was gonna have dreams about that fried chicken for the rest of his life.

"Who says I wanna be married?" she said, thrusting her chin in the air. "Maybe I'm plannin' on goin' to the city and joinin' the Suffragettes."

"What you wanna vote for? There ain't no laws you gotta worry about." He was certain that there was no surer way to chaos than lettin' womenfolk have a say in politics. Ladies couldn't even decide what to wear of an evening, much less how to run a country.

"Well, I for one, wouldn't make it illegal to buy or sell alcohol." Her eyes were fierce, and she had a little frown on her face. It was kinda fun seein' her all riled up. "Making it illegal just makes it even more dangerous. And if the tax had been reasonable enough, we wouldn't have lost so much."

"I'm sorry," he said. He'd lived on the edge of the law for as long as he could remember, but her family obviously had a different history with moonshine than his. "It's not right, what happened to your farm."

"Nothin' I can do to change it now," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Her smile was back, though, as if her outburst had never happened.

"So, you gonna run away to the city and become a modern woman?" He imagined her in one of those dresses he'd heard of, the ones that went all the way up to a woman's knees. Suddenly, it was real difficult to swallow. "Be a shame to cut off all that pretty hair."

"Maybe I won't be _that_ modern." Her hand grasped the bottom of her thick braid, playing with the end. He wanted to loosen that ribbon and run his hands through her hair, but it wouldn't be proper. That was something only a husband could do. "What about you? You seem the right age to have sown all your wild oats by now. Is there a Mrs. Dixon tendin' the still, waitin' for you to come home?"

"If there was, I wouldn't be sittin' here with you." Now that he'd started imaginin' things, his mind didn't wanna stop. The thought of her smilin' at him with a babe in her arms and another one on the way made his heart sore with longing. "Guess I just never found the right girl who made me wanna settle down. 'Least I never met one willing to put up with my criminal ways."

"I'm sure she's out there," she said, smiling brightly. "Don't give up hope."

He'd never had cause to hope for anything before. Now, he'd been given the answer to a prayer he never made. Which gave him an idea. "Which church you go to on Sunday?"

"First Baptist over on Magnolia." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I think Maggie has a crush on that foreign boy the pastor brought back from his spell as a missionary. Can you imagine my sister datin' an Oriental?"

Well, that definitely narrowed it down. He'd been worried because he wasn't exactly a God-fearing man, and he usually spent his Sundays resting, the way the Good Lord intended. Finding her church wouldn't be to hard, 'cause how many churches had a Chinaman as one of its members? "I can't rightly say that I could, considerin' I've never met your sister." She ducked her head in embarrassment. "But maybe I can meet her on Sunday? After Church?"

"I'd like that." Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. His tongue darted across his suddenly dry lips, and he wondered what it would be like to taste hers. Would she be sweet, like the lemonade? Juicy and firm, like the chicken? Maybe she'd leave a warm taste in his mouth, like the rich, creaminess of butter. Everything seemed possible beneath the moonlight.

He pulled back, not realizing that his body had leaned into her. Scooping up the plate and jar, he stood up. "It's getting late, I should probably go." Their hands touched as he handed her the used dishes. He let his hand linger next to hers as he spoke. "Thank you for your kindness. I would've been a goner if it weren't for you."

"You're welcome, Daryl Dixon." He loved the way his name sounded in her mouth.

"Miss Beth," he said, nervously looking anywhere but her face, "would you mind if I asked your daddy's permission to court you?"

He watched her feet move towards him, but it still took him by surprise when he felt her soft lips brush his cheek. "I'd like that. Very much."

His eyes drifted to her face with its endless smile and big, bright eyes. He wondered what color they were and whether they'd sparkle as much in the sunlight as they did under the starlight. "I'll see you Sunday, then?"

She nodded, and then made her way to the ladder, glancing over her shoulder at him one last time before she left the barn. He smiled to himself in the darkness, his thoughts already on Sunday. Merle was gonna laugh his ass off, seeing Daryl dressed in his—

_Shit!_

How the hell was he gonna tell Merle that the last run had gone bad? Or that he was done runnin' hooch? Or that he was lookin' to get handcuffed to some doll?

He pressed his hand to the spot where she'd kissed him. It didn't matter what Merle thought. Didn't matter what her daddy thought, neither. He was gonna make that girl his wife, come hell or high water.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Because of the amazing response, I've decided to continue this story. Seriously, though, it was really awesome to read the reviews, and I can't thank you enough for all of your kind words. I mean, I guess I can by giving you what you asked for, right?

* * *

Pastor Horvath was in rare form today, sermonizing about the dangers of sin. Not just in deed, but also in thought. Beth cast her eyes to the floor, feeling guilty over her harsh feelings towards her sister and her bossy ways. They'd fought again this morning because she'd complained a little about havin' to wear Maggie's hand-me-down dresses that were at least a decade out of fashion and a might too small. But she'd wanted to look especially nice this Sunday.

Her eyes darted to the crowded pews, searching for a head of dark brown hair. Being in the front row of the choir afforded her the privilege of seein' the congregation file in before service started. Except Daryl hadn't been among them. Maybe he was having second thoughts about courting her. Promises made under the moonlight tended to fade away when reason finally set in.

She forced a smile on her face as Pastor Horvath started winding down and signaled her to come forward. The organist pounded out the first few notes of "In the Sweet By and By," and Beth raised her voice to Jesus, singing the lyrics while the choir sang the chorus. She knew it was prideful, but this was the only time when she didn't mind that everyone was looking at her. Her heart lifted and her smile was real by the time the song ended.

After the service, she made her way outside to where Maggie was standing with the preacher and his foreign boy. Actually, Maggie was standing awful close to Glenn as Pastor Horvath greeted his parishioners. Their arms were nearly touching! She was gonna get an earful if Daddy saw them.

"Miss Beth," said Pastor Horvath, clasping her hand gently, "you were lovely today, as always."

"Thank you, sir," she said, the color rising in her cheeks as she tried to stifle her ego. "It's only through the grace of God that I've been blessed to serve Him this way."

"You shouldn't be so modest, little songbird."

Not recognizing the voice, Beth turned to see who'd spoken. He was a large man, broad in the shoulders, with scruff on his chin, unlike the pastor's well-kept beard. Though his clothes were of good material, they were untidy and wrinkled, the collar of his shirt closer to ivory than white. But it was his eyes that gave her a fright. The way they leered at her as if she was some ripe peach he wanted to bite into. She averted her eyes, moving closer to her sister's side.

"Mr. Dixon," said Pastor Horvath, "how good of you to join us. Your sins are not so great that the Lord cannot save you from them."

"Well, Brother Dale, I didn't come here looking for salvation." The man clapped Pastor Horvath on the back, a friendly gesture from anyone else. But not from him. "I came to find out why my little brother dragged hisself out of bed this mornin', wakin' me up with that damn automobile. And your preachin' didn't exactly soothe my aching head. But you, little songbird, I could listen to you all day."

Glenn took a step forward, shielding her and Maggie from the man's view, but not from his words. Beth saw her father glance over and begin to make his way towards them.

"Enough, Merle," said a familiar voice. Beth peeked over Glenn's shoulder to see Daryl standing there, cap in hand, his woolen suit clean and pressed, a crisp bowtie at his neck.

"Dar- um, Mr. Dixon," she said, tugging at the frayed lace of her cuff, "it's so good to see you again."

"Mr. Dixon?" Maggie pushed past Glenn, arching her brow as she looked from Daryl to Beth. "I don't believe we've been introduced. How do you know my sister?"

Beth's eyes darted to his, panic rising in her chest. "It my fault, Maggie," said Beth. Surely, she was goin' to Hell, lying in front of a church, and to a preacher no less. "I was cuttin' through the Johnson's farm last week and twisted my ankle. Mr. Dixon here was kind enough to help me get back on my feet and escort me until I could walk by myself."

"Bethy, how many times have I told you that your shortcuts are simply the quickest way to trouble?" Maggie turned towards Daryl, her demeanor radically changed. "Thank you so much, Mr. Dixon. I'm so sorry if she inconvenienced you. My sister should know better by now."

"Weren't no trouble at all," he said, a slight smile on his thin lips. "She's pleasurable company."

"I'm sure she is, little brother," said Merle. His eyes swept over her, and Beth was glad that her outdated dress had a high collar and long sleeves. "She looks mighty pleasurable indeed."

A flush ran up her cheeks, and she saw Glenn's muscles stiffen. Daryl, meanwhile, was avoiding her eyes, looking away as he licked his lips. Her heart fell as she realized that maybe her honor wasn't worth defending. After all, she had met with him late at night, alone in the hayloft. And she'd kissed him, too! A stranger she'd just met. That wasn't the behavior of a proper woman, not something a person would want in a wife.

"Girls," said Daddy, finally beside them, "I think it's time for us to leave." Though he'd missed the conversation, Beth was sure he was aware of the tension in the air.

"Mr. Greene," Glenn said, shaking Daddy's hand, "I'd be honored to escort Mag—Miss Greene home."

"Thank you, Glenn, but I think the girls and I will be just fine." He offered the pastor and his boy a tight-lipped smile before leading Maggie and Beth away by their elbows.

As they walked away, Beth could feel eyes on her again, could almost hear the whispers of the crowd. She glanced back to see Daryl and his brother watching them leave. Turning 'round, she raised her chin and marched forward. She'd had enough heartache for one lifetime. She wasn't going to pine for somethin' that never was. And the next time Daryl Dixon showed up in her chicken coop, she was gonna send him straight over to the Sheriff.

o)O(o

Daryl had made a mess of things. He'd messed things badly. He shouldn't have taken the car. Merle would've kept on sleepin', none the wiser. Any other time, Merle might've woke up and gone back to sleep, but Daryl had screwed up the run, which left Merle cranky 'cause they needed every drop for the next run. Daryl was just glad he hadn't mentioned leavin' to find a respectable job. That would've really set Merle off, and he'd go on lookin' for a reason.

Except now he'd found the reason. The others might've believed her fib, but Merle knew him better than that. Daryl weren't in town last week, and if he were, he wouldn't a been walkin'.

She'd looked so damn fine standin' up there at the front of the church, her hair like a golden halo. And her voice. Ain't nothin' on earth sounded as sweet as Beth Greene singin'. He ain't never had much use for religion, 'specially since his pa kept quotin' the Bible while he was doling out punishment to him and Merle. 'Sin' was just a word that kept him and Merle in business, all those souls lookin' for reasons to be saved. But he'd happily spend every Sunday at worship if it meant hearin' her voice.

Now that Merle had gone and run off his big mouth, Sundays was probably the only time he'd be able to see her. Not like he weren't nervous enough, trying to act proper in front of that preacher and her sister. He'd wanted to take her hand and tell her how pretty she looked, how her song made his heart feel light. He'd wanted to brush that lock of hair from her cheek. Hell, he just wanted to touch her. Even it was only her elbow. He wanted to know that she was real, that their moonlit night wasn't some figment of his imagination. He wanted to know if she was just being kind because she was kind or if she was being kind because it was him.

And now he was talkin' in circles. Just like he was walkin' in circles. He looked up and saw a field through a break in the trees. Huh, maybe he hadn't been walkin' quite so aimlessly.

He strode through the forest and across the field, the light of the waning moon guiding his steps. Gathering a few pebbles, he stood in the shadows outside the farmhouse and stared up at the windows on the second floor. But which one was hers? He didn't want to wake her sister, and he certainly didn't want to wake her father.

Just as he was about to give up, one of the windows above the porch opened. A head of dark, curly hair appeared, followed by the rest of Maggie's body, wearing trousers and a heavy coat, too warm for this time of year. No doubt she was tryin' to hide the evidence of her ample chest.

He waited until she'd shimmied down the post and was on the ground before he made himself known. "Evening, Miss Greene."

Maggie let out a little yelp of surprise. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Relax," he said, stepping into the light. "I was hoping I could talk to Miss Beth."

"Oh, Mister Dixon." She looked slightly relieved but still wary. "And why would you be wantin' a word with my sister at this of night?"

"Why would you be sneakin' out your bedroom window at this time of night?" He couldn't help smirking, knowing she didn't have a leg to stand on. Not that he cared one way or the other what she was doin'. Weren't none of his business except that it helped him get to Beth. "Maybe I should just knock on the door, do things proper?"

She quit glarin' and sighed, shimmying back up the column. He followed her up, waiting as she knocked on the window at the other end of the house. It opened and Beth's head popped out.

"Maggie? What are you doin' outside?" asked Beth, sleepily.

"Go get your robe and meet me on the balcony," said Maggie. "You've got a visitor."

Daryl and Maggie climbed over the railing into the balcony that separated the girls' rooms. Maggie pulled out a pocket watch from her coat, checking the time.

"You got somewhere to be? I ain't holdin' you back," he said.

"I ain't leavin' until you're off the farm, and my sister's back in bed." She tucked the watch back in place and continued to frown at him.

"Maggie? What's goin' on?" whispered Beth as she came through the door. "And why're you wearin—Daryl, I mean, Mr. Dixon, what are you doing here?"

He lost all train of thought as she stepped into the moonlight and he saw her hair cascading down her back. "I, um, I wanted to…" He licked his lips, nervously, and tried to focus. "I wanted to apologize for my brother today. He's—"

"Uncouth," said Maggie. She was glaring at him again.

"Maggie, don't be rude." Beth tugged her sister's arm. "And I don't need a chaperone, so you can head off to wherever you was goin' in Shawn's clothes."

"'S alright," he said, laying his hand over hers. "My brother was the rude one, and I never should've let him speak to you that way."

"So why did you?" Maggie shook off Beth's hand, and he reluctantly let his fall back to his side.

"'Cause it's just Merle bein' Merle. He didn't mean nothin' by it." He looked up at Beth, hopin' for a bit of understanding. She looked back at him, arms crossed, with a frown to match her sister's. "Look, we ain't around civil folk too often. Even less around women. Just us boys that run the still—"

"You're a bootlegger?"

"Hush, Maggie, you'll wake Daddy," said Beth. "And I, for one, would like to hear the rest of Daryl's apology."

He winced, realizing that Merle hadn't been the only one in the wrong today. "I mucked things up, alright? I screwed up, my brother screwed up, my whole family is all screwed up." His hand clenched, and he wished he could just drive his fist into something until it started to hurt more than the pain he was feelin' right now. "I just—I just wanted to make a good impression on your family today. And I botched it. So, I'm sorry. 'S all I wanted to say."

He started to make his way off the balcony when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Even without turning around, he knew it was Beth. "Does this mean you still wanna court me?"

"Of course I do." His eyes sought hers, but they got stuck on the brightness of her smile. "But I don't think your Daddy is gonna approve."

"I'm sure there are lots of things goin' on that Daddy wouldn't approve of," she said, casting a glance at Maggie, who managed to look haughty and sheepish at the same time. "I visit the cemetery every Wednesday afternoon. Greene family plot, north side of the old oak tree."

He could lean down and kiss her, she was so close. But he felt her sister's gaze, so he gave Beth a smile instead. "I'll be there."

"Maggie and I had best get to bed then." She pulled away, running her tongue across her lip. It took him a moment to notice that he'd been doing the same thing. "Unless Maggie has somewhere else she'd like to be?"

Maggie fixed her glare on her sister, who held her gaze until finally Maggie spun around and headed for the door, leaving them a warning. "I can hear you from my room."

"I thought she'd never leave." Beth grinned as the door closed behind her. "I didn't wanna wait until Wednesday."

She rose up to meet him, pressing her lips against his. They were soft and warm and everything he imagined they would be. And so much more. He fought the urge to sink his hands into her thick hair, to deepen the kiss and have her open beneath him, to taste the sweetness of her mouth. No, the promise of her lips was enough for now.

"Beth," hissed Maggie from somewhere behind him. He wasn't exactly sure and he really didn't care.

Beth stepped back, a little smile on her lips. "Alright, Maggie. I'm goin' to bed."

She walked backwards to the door, keepin' her eyes on him. He drank his fill of her, thinkin' there were too many days between now and Wednesday. When she reached the door, she waved and slid through the opening, disappearing from view. He sighed and climbed over the balcony railing onto the porch roof.

"Daryl." Maggie was still sitting at her window, but she'd stopped glaring at least.

"What?"

"If you see – someone – waitin' outside the farm, tell him—" Maggie's eyes dropped, and he could see that whoever it was, he was someone important to her. "Tell him I can't make it tonight."

"Ain't too late," he said, looking up at the sky. "You could still sneak out."

"Is that the kind of influence you're gonna be on my sister?"

"Hey, she kissed me." She'd kissed him. Nothin' on earth could wipe the smile off his face right now. "And I ain't gonna be a moonshiner much longer. I aim to make an honest livin' and do right by her."

"I'm glad to hear it." She looked wistfully at the entrance to the farm, then shook her head. "I should stay. But if you see him?"

"I'll tell him you're thinkin' of him."

"Thank you." Maggie smiled at him for the first time that evening, and he could finally see the family resemblance. Then she shut her window and there was nothing left for him to do but leave.

He scooted down to the edge of the roof and leapt to the ground below. Even though it was out of his way, he walked towards the road, searching for Maggie's mysterious friend. He wasn't hard to spot, waitin' under the elm tree just outside the fence. Daryl's eyes narrowed as he got closer. Well, it looked like Beth had been right. Maggie was sweet on that Chinaman.


End file.
